


Trapped in a Closet

by jdphoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2097708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s it, I’m going back. The Dark Lord can kill me. I’m not staying in this house one minute more.”</p>
<p>“Yes, you are. That’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped in a Closet

“That’s it,” Draco said, “I’m going back. The Dark Lord can kill me. I’m not staying in this house one minute more.”

“Yes,” Granger said heavily, “you are. That’s the crux of the problem, isn’t it?”

The door, once again, refused to budge. Draco knocked his shoulder into it, not so much in an effort to push but to gain a bit of personal space.

That fussy Weasley woman had ordered everyone, even on-the-run Death Eaters, to help clean Grimmauld Place. Draco would have been more than happy to go off on his own (so he could nap the afternoon away) but the woman had insisted everyone go in pairs. For safety. As if Draco couldn’t see through that. They didn’t trust him, not even while he was trapped in this accursed house.

Granger had actually volunteered to accompany him to the topmost floor, which he suspected was only to stave off a fight amongst the others to avoid such a fate.

They’d gone off, done what the old bat wanted, and ended up stuck in a closet. A very small closet. They were actually standing within each other’s legs, there was so much junk in here taking up space.

While Draco had taken the door, Granger was trying to get comfortable leaning her body against a set of shelves.

“This is all your fault, you know.”

“My fault?!” Granger yelled, causing the assorted jars and knick knacks behind her to shake. “If anything this is _your_ ancestors’ faults for having such an insane house!”

“Yes, a house with wards _against_ muggles and muggleborns.” He turned the doorknob. Like each time before, it slid smooth as butter but the door refused to budge. It felt as solid as if it was just a painted rectangle of wall.

“That’s what you think this is about?” The rage in her tone was greatly diminished, replaced with curiosity. She stared at the door as if she could see the magic of the enchantment keeping them imprisoned.

Draco shrugged. “Most likely. If any of the others had come, the door would probably open with no trouble. But because you’re here…”

When she didn’t rise to the bait he dared a look at her from the corner of his eye. She was still looking at the door - or was she looking at him? He couldn’t quite tell - and her eyes had gone wide.

“Draco,” she said slowly.

He did not like that tone _or_ that expression. Whatever she was about, he wanted to be far away from her at that moment. Unfortunately, with so little space there was nothing to do when she lunged but recoil against the door. Her hands came up and he had a brief flashback to third year and bright pain on his cheek, but instead her fingers were in his hair. She was … ruffling it?

He lifted his hands to push her off. The shelves shook again when she slammed back into them and Draco’s foot went straight through one of the cardboard boxes on the floor.

“Ow!” she moaned but grabbed again for his head. “Look down!”

“What! Why! What are you doing?”

“There was a spider in your hair!” she yelled. “Do you want me to get it out or not?”

Draco froze a moment before obediently tilting his head down so she could inspect the back of his head. Her fingers moved gently through his hair, moving sections back and forth so she could better see. Draco’s own fingers went oddly stiff. His palms moistened. When he’d pushed her away he’d somehow ended up holding onto her hips. Bad enough that they felt like any girl’s hips, soft and just the right shape for him to grab onto, but worse (so much worse) was that now he found himself staring directly into her cleavage.

This was a perfect example of all that was wrong with muggles. It was indecent, the clothes they wore. Indecent and brilliant. Unheeded, Draco’s hands began to move upward, so intent was his focus on those pert breasts.

“All right, I think it’s gone.”

Draco jerked up so violently his skull cracked against Granger’s chin. She cried out and he fell arse-first into a box that seemed to have been storing nothing but dust. Through the haze of grey that burst into the air, the bright red dribbling down Granger’s chin was unmistakable. Draco swore and awkwardly climbed to his feet.

“Let me see,” he said.

She let him pull her hand away from her face. Her lip was split but other than that she seemed fine.

“Not too bad.”

She narrowed her eyes and started to reply, but cut off with a wince of pain. He lifted his wand to her lip, only to have her dodge out of the way. He grabbed her head in his free hand to hold her still.

“Calm down! We used to use this all the time in quidditch practice. My skull’s not nearly so bad as a bludger.”

She didn’t try speaking again but her expression plainly disagreed. He almost wished he hadn’t thought to heal her. Being trapped with a speechless Granger would certainly be far preferable. Too late now however; and besides, if the other Order members found them here and her bleeding, he’d likely find himself locked up with that hippogriff.

“ _Simveris_ ,” Draco said and the cut mended as if it were never there.

Granger tongued the area gingerly. There was a strange feeling, like a hook catching in Draco’s veins and setting his whole body momentarily off balance. He made to move back to his spot at the door but found himself held much the way he’d been holding her.

“Hold still,” she said, her hand in his hair. He tensed under her touch, keeping still as she carefully positioned herself in the tight space. He couldn't seem to drag his eyes away from her slightly parted lips and some part of him (obviously in the grips of cabin fever) wondered if her tongue would make a reappearance. She went up on her toes beside him and then-

“ _Hngh_.”

“Sorry!” she said. Her grip on him didn’t let up and neither did the pain that had erupted just above his temple. “You cut your head when you hit me and there’s a lot of dust in there. I can’t heal it until it’s cleaned.”

“And you think the best way to-”

She cut him off with another breath of air to his head. It was gentle, not nearly enough that he should be whining like a child, but it _hurt_.

She brought her wand up as she blew; slowly, as if he wouldn’t notice her arm rising directly in front of his face.

“ _Simveris_ ,” she said.

Her face broke into a broad smile when she managed the new spell properly and a breath that might have been a proud laugh fell over his face. It didn’t hurt this time, all the more reason to return to his spot against the door. Unfortunately by now they’d gotten so turned about that getting to the door required twisting around her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Standing.”

“Looks more like you’re contorting- hey!” He’d managed to knock her aside, nearly sending her to the ground. Her arms windmilled and she grabbed his robes, pulling him up against her. Abruptly they were standing nose to nose, breathing the same air and balancing against one another.

Draco’s pulse pounded in his ears and it seemed important somehow not to breathe too deep or he’d be breathing _into_ her mouth and that just led to mental images he did not need.

“What are _you_ doing?” he asked, sounding far too breathless.

“Standing,” she said, her eyes slipping shut. They were so close he felt the fluttering of her lashes. “Just keeping standing.” She relaxed by degrees, tensing up only once when the tip of his nose brushed her cheek. He sucked in a breath and the contact was lost.

When they were each standing by their own power again she released him. Her eyes went to anything that wasn’t him and her hands ran over her bare arms. He remembered suddenly that they were in the highest floor of the house. By now the sun would be setting and the Weasleys would turn the house upside-down looking for her. Draco had no illusions they’d care about him beyond punishing him for causing her disappearance.

“Come on,” he said and shrugged out of his heavy outer robes.

“Um, what?” she asked, edging away.

There was a little more room on the floor now thanks to all their (mostly his) mucking about. Carefully, Draco eased down to sit against the door. He scooted as far to the right as he could and patted the slim space at his left.

“You’re crazy.”

“No,” he said impatiently, “ _you’re_ crazy. You’re cold and tired and it makes no sense to keep standing about when they might not find us for hours.” He patted the empty space meaningfully. When she still hesitated he said, “We’ve been trapped in here for nearly an hour already. If I was going to try anything-” (by which he meant hurting her because he _certainly_ would never sink so low as to try the other. _Really_.) “I would have done it by now.”

She sighed as though she were knowingly about to make a terrible mistake and carefully sat beside him. There really wasn’t much room to maneuver in and for a split second she was sitting half in his lap before she shifted to the floor. Her cheeks were pink as he spread his robes out over them, which he ignored in return for her ignoring his own similar predicament.

A fight over the robes ended with their feet tangled together beneath it, which was certainly warmer for them both than just the robes. Stiff spines became increasingly silly after that and Draco soon found himself with a face full of fuzz when Granger’s head drooped first to his shoulder, and then his chest. He was drifting too by that point and only twisted his face out of the worst of it.

* * *

Draco’s head landed squarely on a booted foot. He looked up, saw the open doorway above him and the smiling face of Sirius Black.

“Found them!” Sirius yelled. “And Fred! You owe me five galleons!”

There were roars of protest and outrage from some far corner of the house but Draco couldn’t be bothered to pay them much mind over a dreamy moan at his side. Granger’s hand gripped the front of his robes and she curled closer to him in her sleep.

“Ron’s going to kill you,” Sirius said conversationally. Pounding footsteps were nearing them now. Sirius pulled his foot out from under Draco’s head and stepped back to make room.

“His expression will be worth it,” Draco said and lifted an arm around Granger’s back to grip her hip. Sirius whistled lowly in appreciation just as the first red head of hair rounded the corner.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this tumblr post](http://ilosttrackofthings.tumblr.com/post/94081029974/riderxfberk-soldierserum-ur-otp-hair) listing cute things to imagine otps doing and took it as a personal challenge.


End file.
